Blood Ties
by Counter Spark
Summary: After the resurrection of her father, Claire witnesses something unimaginable on the television...the slaying of her other one. And she wants to do something about it.
1. Blood Ties

**Title: **Blood Ties

**Author: **Counter Spark

**Disclaimer: **Oh how I wished I owned Heroes right now and all it's lovely characters. Tragically, I do not. This is the only reason that Nathan Petrelli has not been shirtless in every episode and isn't bulletproof.

**Summary: **After the resurrection of her father, Claire witnesses something unimaginable on the television- the slaying of her other one. And she wants to do something about it. Oneshot set after "Powerless".

**Author's Note: **This oneshot is basically me writing out what needs to happen in the first episode of Volume Three. Pretty much if the storyline doesn't loosely follow what I've written, well...that's messed up. I like it- I feel like it taps into the connection that Claire and Nathan have as a family, a connection that may possibly be cut tragically short (let's hope not, my friends). Hopefully you like it and will review me with great pleasure. With that said, please enjoy!

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He'd left. Again. Not very surprising to say the least; she'd become so used to his absence that it hardly mattered anymore. Having him gone seemed somehow..._normal_, she thought, flipping mindlessly through the channels on the television, eyes not even comprehending the images that flooded by. Not seeing the sunlight flash across her father's horn-rimmed glasses as they ate dinner together had painfully become bearable, and now that he was back it seemed to her to be a priceless gift. She had thought him dead for what had seemed a nightmarish eternity, but now he was alive again...because of her. Because of her blood.

It seemed unbelievable; for so long her father had fought- had _killed_- to keep the Company away from her. He had uprooted their homely Texan life and moved far away from every comfort save each other's blessed company. Then she started to fight it. She started to push it away the moment she saw that miniscule, thoughtless scar on West's bare neck as he looked serenely towards the ocean. Her father had been responsible for that. And for that she truly hated her father, be it only for a few guilty moments.

But then he died for her. Screaming and fighting, West had held her back as she heard the sudden crack of the gunshot and the spray of blood from her father's eye- the bits of glass from the spectacles that she had chosen erupting and falling amongst the hot summer asphalt. All for her. Wasn't it always all for her?

She had missed him so much that it hurt to think- the only solace she found was in sleep or complete blankness, staring at her bedroom walls for hours at a time, not moving and lost in the nothingness of her grief. Even West wouldn't do; his arms around her felt distant, unable to penetrate the hole that her father's death had dug into the pits of her stomach. She wanted to forget. She wanted not to feel.

But then he came back.

Yet everything, even after the resurrection, seemed skewed. Her heart erupted with fear and joy and absolute gratitude when she saw her late father standing at the door, the sun breaking from around his figure as though he were some arisen deity. Her father had come back to life, but it was with a price. He had told her that. The precious, special blood that ran through her veins had defied death, but it was with a price. What that price was, she didn't know, but she had the foreboding sensation that she'd find out soon enough.

"Claire! Dinner in five, alright?" Her mother's voice broke her train of thought as the smell of a chicken dinner wafted into the living room. She heard Mr. Muggles yipping happily- the sound of her brother running the faucet upstairs to wash his hands before supper. She smiled. Everything was back to normal. Well...almost.

"Where's Dad?"

A slight hesitation. "I'm...I'm not sure, honey. But he'll be back around nine, he said."

_Nine? _It was five o' clock. What could the Company need from her newly arisen father that would keep him for four more hours? Part of her desired to know while the other detested every fiber of herself that questioned this. Her father had made a deal. It was either take the deal or death. _I can take my father being involved in shady situations if it means he gets to stay alive, _she thought, feeling slightly nauseous at the idea of losing him again. It would be unbearable. She'd rather come crashing down from the peaks of Mount Everest or walk through the most sweltering of fires than lose him again.

For some strange reason, tears began to well up inside of her, the fear settling deep within her heart. Sure, she hated the deal her father had made, whatever it may be. He had sold his soul to the devil in a way- signed a contract in blood. But she'd rather tossed be in the mist again about her father's work than be thrown back into that sickening world of sorrow and loss. No shady deal could be worse than that.

She flipped the channel and brought her attention momentarily back the television, 'Breaking News' splayed in huge red letters at the top of the screen. It was hard to make out what was happening- white, blinding camera flashes made it almost impossible to see what was actually being pictured. There were too many people, too much sound...she picked up the remote and traced her thumb over the off button before the husky, assertive voice of the newscaster helped relay what was actually happening amidst all of the chaos. Claire listened intently.

"...former congressman Nathan Petrelli-"

Her heart seized, panic releasing from her very core and spreading sickeningly to the rest of her body.

"- Was shot by an unknown assassin at 4:38 this afternoon."

_Oh, God. No, no, no. _She leapt from the couch and stood in front of the screen, mind racing as she tried to see through the endlessly flashing bulbs. No such luck. She numbly felt a tear roll down her cheek. _Is he okay? Is Nathan okay? _Silently and without the realization of what she was doing, she prayed for her long-lost biological father. It was all so confusing- she had already thought he was dead once before. She had watched him lovingly embrace her own uncle and fly into the New York night. She had heard the boom of explosion- saw the orange flash through the midnight blue. Then she had recieved a tear-filled phone call from her biological father telling her that he had survived a nuclear explosion, a choked up voice adding that Peter hadn't been so lucky. Claire had questioned further, but he had cut her off shortly, apparently overcome, and hung up the phone, keeping her from all of the answers that she longed to have.

She was still in the dark about his survival- about how someone could've possibly avoided such a fiery and heroic death . _So he lived? But how? _She shook her head, mind buzzing painfully from thinking too much. At this point it was irrelevant. He had been alive for months now as well as 4:37 today. But what happened at 4:38? In the back of her mind she heard Lyle urging her to come to dinner, Mr. Muggles barking loudly in the background, the scamper of his pawed feet reaching her ears among the panic.

Then the bulbs dimmed and the cameraman found a way to navigate through the photographers. And slowly, she saw it. Claire sank to the floor, dazed.

There was the man that was her biological father, dying in the arms of her uncle, two bullet wounds standing out starkly against his nice blue shirt. They had _both_ lived. She realized dimly that she was watching her family now. Her technical family.

"Dad," she whispered faintly, realizing for the first time that she was addressing Nathan Petrelli, someone she'd met about five months ago, as her true father. She felt oddly guilty for this, but they were blood; they were connected forever. Acknowledging this was not denouncing the family she knew. Then the panic hit again and she noticed the way Peter was screaming at him, horror and desperation in his eyes. Was he..._dying?_

Nathan beheld Peter with glazed eyes, life slowly fading from the lively hazel that she had first became acquainted with not so long ago. Her body went cold, her hands rigid- the father she'd never had was dying, and she was so far away from him. Tears burning her cheeks, she gasped as the camera wobbled and lost focus, and within a moment she was once again viewing a mass of people, blinding flashes of white distorting the picture.

Claire stood up again, anger and terror pumping through her veins. She turned around helplessly and noticed her mother and brother watching soundlessly with dumbstruck faces. They had seen, too. Staring into her mother's shocked eyes, she screamed the question that was ripping through her heart, hurting worse than any fall or burn ever could. _"Is he okay?" _Claire felt her voice tremble on the edge of hysterics. "Mom, is he okay?!"

Sandra Bennet stared helplessly at her daughter, unable to speak or move.

She turned back towards the television as it repeated itself, no developments or statements of relief. Just the obvious. "...Former congressman Nathan Petrelli was shot by an unknown assassin at 4:38 this afternoon."

Burying her head in her hands, a sneaking image of her non-technical father flooded her mind, horn-rimmed glasses glinting in the sunlight as he called her Claire-bear. She didn't know why she thought of him now, the father she knew, while she watched the father she thought she'd lost dying on national television. There was a connection, she knew this without a doubt, and yet the puzzle remained mostly unsolved. She didn't know how her father played into the shooting, but he was unquestionably responsible. This knowledge filled her with dread as another new line flitted at the bottom of the screen.

'...The shooting took place in Odessa, Texas during an impromptu press conference..."

"Odessa," she breathed, wiping her wet face with her sleeve. "_Odessa..." _Claire turned to face her mother, face set.

Concern flashed across Mrs. Bennet's face, sensing something brewing within her daughter. She spoke slowly, as if fearing the answer that would come. "What is it, Claire?"

Claire could feel the blood pumping through her- the blood that defied nature. The blood that had already saved one of her fathers. In this moment, she knew what had to be done, the image of a screaming Peter and a dying Nathan setting everything in stone. "Mom...I'm going back to Odessa. _Now."_


	2. Blood Binds

**Disclaimer: **Yep. Still don't own Heroes or, unfortunately, Nathan Petrelli. It sucks, _believe me_, I know. If I did, you know he'd still be rocking that hobo beard.

**Thanks for the reviews: **Seriously! I did not expect this much good feedback! I think this proves my point that Tim Kring should hire me for his writing staff. The public ADORES ME (I'm being sarcastic...or am I...I don't know. But thanks, all of you)!

**A/N: **Alright, so first things first: I'd just like you all to know that I did not intend on making this a multi-chapter story. It was intended originally to be a oneshot. But you know, I just read everyone's requests for more and it got me thinking until I figured what the hay, why not fully flesh this thing out? I mean, why leave the reader to draw their own conclusions when I can just tell you everything that happens in great detail? Besides, it's more fun this way. So yes, here's the next chapter of 'Blood Ties', my new multi-chapter story. Enjoy!

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The police station had a dark, eerie glow to it, the cold, night breeze blowing in through the opened doors and cracked windows. Claire hugged herself tightly, slowing pacing around behind the podium. She could faintly recognize the sound of West breathing quietly behind her as he stepped over the yellow police line and approached her, gently resting his hand on her quaking shoulder. It all seemed so surreal- so dreamlike...only two days ago she had witnessed her biological father lying lifelessly behind the very podium she stood behind, two gunshot wounds pierced through his nice, blue shirt. She heard West sigh behind her, a chill wind from outside breaking the silence.

"Are you okay, Claire?"

Had it only been two days? Two days ago she had been caught up in the whirlwind of her father's resurrection, flipping mindlessly through the channels and reflecting over how grateful and lucky she was to have her father- the father she'd always known- alive. Then she saw it splayed on headline news, the image of the father she had never had the opportunity to truly know dying in the midst of flashing camera bulbs. The quest had begun then, the knowing sense settling itself in her very core that if her biological father had any chance of survival, it lied in her. _If only it were so easy, _she thought wistfully, reaching up and squeezing West's hand tightly. Her mother had, of course, denied Claire's request to come to Odessa, and she had spoken briefly with her father about it only to receive a fierce 'no.' So she did all she could do- leave a note and get to Odessa the only way she knew how with an empty wallet and a sense of emergency...through West.

Claire nodded slowly, closing her eyes and recalling all of the events that led her to this very spot- the place where Nathan Petrelli, her biological father, was gunned down. "I'm alright," she said halfheartedly, lacing her fingers with his. "I just wish I knew where he is now." And it was true; after the frenzied reports of the shooting spread across the entire nation, the news suddenly...well, stopped. _Completely_. As if there was something deeper going on- something dark and secretive that had bound itself to the father she didn't know. There were no reports of his whereabouts, no information about his survival or his death...nothing at all. It was as if everyone had unanimously decided to forget about it completely- to act as though they hadn't seen someone get shot twice in the chest on live television. And somehow to Claire this was more chilling than anything. Sure, she had found the place where he had been shot, but where was she to go from here? Where was she to turn when the incident itself was slowly becoming non-existent- a faint, forgettable smudge in time?

_Well I'm not going to forget about it. _She clenched her jaw tightly, taking in a deep breath through her nose. _Not so easily..._

The moon hung high in the sky, it's rays spreading out through the window and dancing on the tile floor beneath her. Her eyes found two small dots of red, now dry on the ground...her father's blood. A quick sensation of terror passed through her and Claire sunk to the floor, hope fleeing ghostlike from her body and leaving her feeling empty and horribly unfulfilled. West followed her down, wrapping his arms around her, saying nothing for there were no words of encouragement that could come- he, too, was stumped. She stared at the blood, feeling as though she should cry but finding herself hollowly unable to. It was that very blood that laced the two of them together, Nathan and her. It was the reason for _everything_.

"We'll just have to talk to somebody, Claire. One of the policemen...we'll wait until morning-"

"If they won't tell CNN they aren't going to tell a blonde cheerleader from Costa Verde." Her words came out flat and defeated, and even West's arms around her could not bring her from the awful sense of pointlessness that hung around her and seeped deeply into her pores. All of this had been for naught- defying her parents, clinging to West's back as the cities flitted endlessly below...it only led her here, which in turn led her nowhere. "My biological father could be dying right now, West. Who knows? Maybe he's already dead." She paused, the tears she knew she should be crying finally stinging behind her eyes. "And there's nothing I can do."

She felt his nose in her hair, his lips on her neck and he hugged her tightly, drawing in a deep breath. "We can't give up, Claire. I'm not going to let you."

She laughed harshly, still staring hollowly at the blood on the ground. "You didn't even know him, West. I haven't told you one thing about him." That was true as well; the only thing that he knew about former-Congressman Nathan Petrelli was that he was her biological father and that he had been shot on national television. Claire bit her lip, shifting slightly in his embrace. _West doesn't even know my father flies..._

He hugged her tighter, his warmth spreading through her body and providing a small relief from the eerie chill of the room, the harsh wind whistling through the slightly-opened windows. West spoke barely above a whisper, his soft breaths against her hair. "All I need to know is that you care about him, Claire." He paused briefly, the moonlight beaming on the two of them as they sat huddled on the blood-stained tile floor. _"That's all I need to know."_

A brief calm settled in her heart at these words as she watched a patch of moonlight rest upon the dots of blood, the crimson looking other-worldly against the stark white tile and the pale glow of the moon. Eyes fixed, she bit her lip tightly and sniffled, a few tears finding their way down her hot cheeks. West seemed to notice this and brushed them away with the pad of his thumb, still cradling her gently in his arms, soft and reassuring breaths against her neck. "Thank you, West."

It seemed so meager coming from her lips, so insubstantial when she thought about all the things that he had done for her. Without him she would be trapped in her white-picket-fenced home, locked in her small and suffocating room, the knowledge that her biological father was dying thousands of miles away from her gnawing away at any ounce of sanity that she had left. It was all too much, even now...it always seemed to be more than she could handle, her life. _But I know I can face it with West, _she thought, closing her eyes and grasping his hand tightly. _I just know it..._

Suddenly she realized how very tired she was; how heavy her limbs felt in his arms. She had been searching tirelessly for two days, flying without rest beneath the hot, midday sun, and although she was indestructible, her tired body demanded sleep. West seemed to grow sleepy as well, his breaths becoming slower and more rhythmic behind her, his head resting limply on her shoulder. Claire started to doze, eyes fluttering slowly shut, the image of her biological father driving away in a limousine with a rock-shaped hole in the back window flitting through her mind subconsciously, the shards of glass in the desert sand...

She bolted awake, heart racing. _"W-West?"_

The moon was in the exact same spot behind the clouds, the sky just as dark as before- she had only been asleep for moments. Eyes darting crazily in the semi-darkness, she wriggled herself from his embrace and shook him quickly, ears tuned for another loud noise. Her breath catched painfully in her throat. Groggily, he blinked his eyes open and stared at her, no clear expression on his face. _"Claire?" _He yawned loudly-_too loudly_- sending a painful spark of alarm tearing through her stomach. "What's wrong?"

Claire whispered fiercely, standing up and yanking West to his feet. _"Somebody's here!" _

All signs of weariness seemed to leave his face at once as he stared at her with wide, brown eyes, holding his breath and straining to hear any signs of an intruder. Smiling hesitantly, he considered chalking it up to her wild dreams, when-

He grabbed her wrist and ran away from the podium, jumping over the yellow police line and huddling into the corner, enveloped completely in darkness. The clear, unmistakable sound of footsteps approached, ringing loudly through the entrance hall leading up to the very room they were in, each step bouncing off the tile walls and breaking the peaceful silence from before, each footfall like a gunshot in her stomach. West held her tightly, placing her behind himself and blending in seamlessly with the darkness, barely even breathing now in pained expectance. For a moment, Claire wondered why all of this this was necessary- and then it hit her. They were on police grounds- the place of an investigation. Were they caught they would certainly be arrested, and how many more delays could her dying father endure? _Not to mention this isn't exactly the average crime scene, _she reminded herself, peeking from behind West's back. There was, of course, the mystery hanging around the shooting, and the deep, almost unexplainable knowledge that something larger was at work here...something herself and her flying boyfriend didn't exactly need tangling up in. The footsteps grew louder until the intruder crossed the threshold into the conference room, their silhouette becoming visible now.

"Hello?"

His voice seemed distinctly familiar, and she knew without a doubt that she had definitely heard it once before. But whom had it belonged to? His figure was tall and a tad round, the clear outline of a gun held firmly and attentively in his hand.

"Is anyone there?"

They pressed themselves deeper into the corner, staring at the faint outline with paralyzing fear as it came closer and closer, more and more distinguishable as it moved into the pale glow of the moon. Her mind began to race frantically as she clutched West's back, burying her head between his shoulder blades, fearing for the very worst, eyes fixed on the obvious shape of the gun.

His voice seemed gentle this time- less harsh and demanding and more..._understanding? _"I heard you- it's alright. Just come out...I'm not going to hurt you." The shape of a man lowered his gun to the side as if he could sense her wariness- her overpowering fear.

Hesitantly, the figure moved into the moonlight, his features thrown into recognition, and Claire breathed a small sigh of relief. West, oblivious to his identity, twitched crazily and turned to face her with wide eyes, as if declaring her responsible for the death that was certainly coming their way. Slowly, she placed her hand on his shoulder and inched out of the corner, smiling calmly at her boyfriend as she crawled out completely from the darkness. The policeman jerked towards her and instinctively rose his gun, comprehension immediately dawning on his face as she stepped into the moonlight. Dropping his weapon, he smiled and laughed to himself, shaking his head. _"Claire Bennet?"_

She smirked, heart steadying itself slowly but surely. "Officer Parkman."

The policeman instantly holstered his gun and approached her with a breathless sort of smile, as though there was no one else in the world that he wanted to see before her. As though he had been suspecting her. "He told me you'd come here," he said lightly, eyes still glued on the dark corner from which she had emerged. "You brought a friend?"

"Something like that." She paused and laughed quietly under her breath, turning towards the corner in which her flying boyfriend crouched silently, still veiled in darkness, probably staring at the both of them as though he were witnessing some highly dangerous and secret deal that he had been painfully left out of. "West...you can come out now."

Hesitantly he inched out of the corner, crawling on all fours, his suspicious face illuminated in the moonlight. He stopped, eyes glued to the strange policeman who had been patrolling the abandoned conference room so very late at night, interrupting the small nap that he and his indestructible girlfriend had been happily sharing. Palms still on the cold tile floor, West spoke tentatively, eyes and body still sharp with the prospect of having to defend himself. "Who...who are you?"

Matt looked down and smiled awkwardly, reading all of the worrying thoughts of this teenage boy, hearing in his own mind the highly-detailed escape plan that included flying out of the window_. Strange_. "I'm Matt Parkman." He paused, glancing quickly at Claire and then back to West, still crouched on the floor. "And I've been waiting for you."

Claire rolled her eyes at West and marched over beside him, holding out her hand and shaking her head. "Really West, it's alright. He's friends with my dad." Still staring at the policeman intensely, he slowly grabbed her hand and stood up from the floor, brushing the dust from his knees.

West spoke next. "What do you mean you've been waiting for us?"

Parkman paused, biting his lip as his eyes automatically drifted towards the podium...the blood on the ground. He sighed quietly. "He told me you would be coming. He was certain. I've been keeping watch here since...well, since it happened."

Claire approached him, trying so desperately to read the emotions in the officer's eyes; wishing with all of her heart that she could read his mind like he could hers. She could not have the answer soon enough- her heart was racing as she opened her mouth to speak. "Who, Parkman? Who said I'd be coming?" Could it have really been Nathan asking for her? A touch of elation filled her heart- hopes that her father was still alive flooding through her entire body. _Please say Nathan, _she thought, watching the policeman for any movement that would give away the sacred answer. _Please say Nathan..._

It seemed to take him an eternity to speak, the suspense more painful than anything Claire could have imagined. "Peter."

She gasped, quickly looking at West and then back towards Parkman. "_Peter?" _

"Yes...Peter." Something sad stole over Matt's eyes as he began to stroll around the room, approaching the podium with heavy footsteps, standing still before it. Claire followed his movements attentively, her mind buzzing from too many questions that needed to be asked. She told herself to be patient- in his own (unfortunately slow) way, Parkman would tell her everything. _Just be patient. _Steadying herself against the panic, she grabbed West's hand and laced her fingers with his. It always seemed to help.

Eventually, he turned around, a deep grief imprinted in his eyes, moonlight illuminating his face. At this moment Claire recognized the traces of blue beneath his eyes, the stubble on his face...the untidy state of his hair and clothes. He hadn't rested; just like her. Not for two days. _Not since it happened_, she thought sadly, mind taking her back to her own living room two days ago, where she witnessed her father slain as her mother's chicken dinner grew cold in the kitchen. At length, he spoke. "Peter's been down here since it happened- he found an abandoned house about twenty miles east of here. He said he wasn't going to leave until you came...he said he _dreamed_ you were coming." Matt folded his arms and paced around the path of the yellow police line, eyes on the ground. "He says you're the key. And honestly, I hope he's right." He paused slightly. "Claire?" He looked up and found her eyes. _"He needs you."_

"Who?" Claire asked, already knowing the answer. She just wanted to hear his name- to hear it spoken aloud, not just repeated time and time again in her dizzied and frantic mind.

"Nathan."

She wanted to enjoy the relief that was running through her body- the lightness in her heart- but she realized it was far too early for that. She needed to know everything. "Matt, is he..._is he still alive?"_

Their eyes met, the answer she dreaded locked up within him, unwilling to come out. Hesitantly, he opened to his mouth to speak, making an odd, strangled sort of noise before closing it once more and clenching his jaw. "We just need to get there. _Now." _He walked briskly up to the both of them, his long shadow trailing behind him. "I've got a squat car outside- it'll take maybe a half an hour to get there...lots of back roads-"

"I can help." West spoke loudly, stepping towards the policeman with a look of importance. "I can get us there in ten."

"By flying? I don't think so, kid."

West look flabbergasted- almost offended. "Wait...how did you-?"

"I read your mind," he responded flatly, hands on his holstered hips. "It's what I do."

West frowned, voice rising in annoyance. "Well- Well, why can't we fly? I flew Claire here from Costa Verde in two days flat...you scared of flying, Officer?"

Matt actually laughed, a look of nostalgia overtaking his features. "Actually, no. I've done it before. And it was..._interesting_." A mistiness past over his eyes before he paused and elaborated. "We can't fly there because I'm almost one hundred percent sure you can't fly Claire _and _myself there on your back. I would tell you to take Claire alone, but you don't know the way. I'm flattered by your willingness to help, but we've got to do this the old fashioned way. If I turn on the sirens, we can get there pretty fast." He looked down at the ground and grinned, as if hesitating to say something else. At length, he decided to speak, a laugh hidden behind his speech. "Besides, you're not a cargo jet, are you?"

An odd look overtook West's face as he furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head, obviously choosing not to reply to the officer's statement. He cleared his throat before speaking, glancing up at Claire and then back to Parkman, wary. "So we're taking the squat car with the sirens on, then?" West looked suddenly..._excited, _although the small frown on his face made it appear as though he was still trying to keep a level of control over the situation. He shifted a little on the spot, eyeing Claire, before responding. "Well...alright. I've always wanted to drive fast."

"Oh, well, you won't be driving in this case, but I suppose you'll have just as much fun in the backseat." Matt grabbed the keys from his utility belt and smiled weakly before turning towards the podium, that same familiar sadness imprinting itself into the tired shadows of his eyes. Claire wondered silently to herself as she studied him, a sort of grimace set on his face and stubble-worn jaw. Immediately his eyes tore themselves from the two spots of dried blood illuminated in the moonlight and focused all of their energy on her, something manic and pained in their expression. "I'm fine," he responded to her thoughts nonchalantly, straightening up and heaving a long, pent-up sigh. He twirled the keys around with his fingers, metal glinting in the moonlight. "Let's go save your father."

Instinctively, Claire reached out for West's hand as she jogged quickly behind the policeman, too excited and full of dread to think straight. All she knew was that in a matter of minutes- _that's right, minutes, _she thought in relief, reflecting upon the countless hours and days she'd already spent on the chase- she'd be seeing her biological father again. She'd be able to once more gaze into those flawed, hazel eyes and feel as though everything was connected...as though the blood that connected them had powers stronger than cellular regeneration and human flight...as though their blood made them eternally bound. It was natural; it was scientific. It was _right._ And the blood that bound them made them family- real, genuine family...something she could not refuse.

_And I'm not about to give that up. _As they walked out of the police station, a stale, night wind blowing her hair about, she gripped West's hand tightly, smiling despite herself. _Not without a fight._

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**A/N: **So? You like it? Eh? Basically, this is the second chapter of what I intend to be a three-chapter story, which in turn means that there's one chapter left. But what could possibly happen in the next one, you ask? Will Claire finally be reunited with her long-lost father, or will it be too late? Are everyone's intentions what they seem to be, or does someone have a- dare I say it- hidden agenda? Is Nathan really Nathan, or did Candace the shape-shifter come back to life and pose as our favorite politician only to be shot mere moments after? Okay, well that was a stretch, but you know what I'm saying. I think what I'm going to do is just have Maya come in midway through the next chap and cry everyone to death. What do you think? I think I'm going to do that unless you review me and tell me I shouldn't do that (this is an obvious ploy for reviews- I would never do that). Anyway, thanks for reading, and please-oh-please review!


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